“Including my son?”
“To be frank, yes.”
“Who else?”
“That’s not something I’d discuss-”
“The mother?”
“As I said-”
“Any other leads?”
Mark sighed. “No.”
“No? My sources at the hospital tell me you’ve recruited a former classmate of Kelly’s to snoop around for you. Earl Garnet. I looked up his record. Pretty smart. But he seems to be asking the same stale questions you are.”
“As I said, all possibilities-”
“I’m disappointed, Mark. Going after my son is an old idea already pursued to a dead end by the police. And having had Samantha thoroughly investigated by private detectives without results, even I have to admit that going after her is an old idea, too.”
So much for putting Braden on the defensive about Chaz, Mark thought, irritated he hadn’t managed his host the way he’d planned. He could either walk out, or stand here and defend himself. “It’s fresh ideas about old suspects that I’m after,” he finally said, and started for the door.
“What if I told you I had a fresh lead?” Braden called after him.
“Yeah, yeah.”
An insinuating silence worked on Mark’s back until, halfway to the exit, he turned and asked. “Okay, what is it?”
“I might be able to give you a new suspect, somebody who no one else has thought of.”
“Who?”
“I can’t tell you right now. But I’m working on a promising idea. Just give me a few days to verify what I’ve found. All I’m asking in the meantime is that you hold off on any move against Chaz.”
Mark slowed. He finally had the opening he needed to put Braden on the defensive. Wheeling around, he jabbed his forefinger at him. “So your privileged, fifty-something brat can take another shot at me? There’s a fresh idea for you!”
Braden frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh yeah? Monday night someone fired a bullet through the window of my Jeep, remember? Dan Evans questioned you about it.”
“Why, yes. I knew that. It was a terrible incident. But you can’t be suggesting Chaz had anything to do with it.”
Mark said nothing.
The pleasantness on Braden’s face withered a shade. “Of course you know the penalty for libel, defamation of character, and unprofessional conduct.”
“Are you threatening me, Charles? You did tell me to call you Charles, didn’t you? Well, Charles, some people might construe that kind of language as an attempt to intimidate me while I’m doing my duty as coroner.”
The older man’s eyes seemed sad. “What I’m doing is trying to tell a young hothead whose father used to be a guest here, at Kelly’s insistence, by the way, that if he picks too much at a scab, he’s liable to find unexpected pus.”
“And what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means sometimes we’re forced to face unpleasant truths, aren’t we?”
“Oh?”
“Did you ever wonder why, when your family visited here your mother looked so unhappy? Of course, maybe you were too young to notice that sort of thing. But she used to hang around in the background, scowling, all while your father laughed and enjoyed Kelly’s company.”
Mark felt as if a snake that had long lay sleeping deep in his subconscious suddenly stirred. “If you must know, she despised how you and your friends treated my father.” His throat tightened on his words as he spoke.
“But that’s the reason she’d give, isn’t it?”
A terrible coldness formed in his chest. “What are you getting at?”
“Just remarking on how lonely your father must have been during the years after your mother died. He and Kelly spent a lot of time alone during that period, didn’t they?”
“Son of a bitch!” Mark started for the old man.
“Are you menacing me now, Mark?” Charles said. His voice rose only a shade louder, but it reverberated with authority.
Mark checked himself, his fists clenched.
“Innuendo can be so damaging, almost as much as the lies that have been told against my son.”
“Is there a point to this, Charles?”
“Only that this case could get a lot messier than you ever imagined unless you slow down. What’ll happen to your credibility once the press gets even a whiff of the possibility you could be covering up an indiscretion on the part of your father with the victim?”
“What!”
“It’s not me you have to worry about. I already told you, I may have the evidence to hand you Kelly’s murderer in a matter of days and end this nastiness for all of us while protecting the reputations of the innocent, your dad’s included. So in the meantime, back off, young man.”
Mark stood still, his insides tightening as he contained his fury. He’d been outflanked and trapped.
He pivoted on his heel and strode down the corridor back into the salon, unsure how long he could keep from throttling the manipulative bastard.
Lucy was still surrounded by her newfound admirers. He walked up to where she held court. “Sorry to interrupt,” he announced, “but Dr. O’Connor and I have to leave. We’ve got a patient in the oven that needs basting.”
She looked startled, but said lightly, “He just means my turkey.”
“By the way,” Mark continued, “I hope you boys are more careful with your rifles than the asshole who took a shot at me two nights ago. It happened on a country road not twenty miles from here.”
The men fell quiet.
“What are you saying, Dr. Roper?” Braden asked, having rushed in a dozen seconds behind Mark.
“Oh, I think you know. Just some of my ‘fresh thinking’ again. Since you already told Sheriff Evans that Chaz was sick and headed back to his New York apartment that night, I thought I’d ask a few of his friends what happened. Maybe they know something about it.”
Braden stiffened. “I’ll have you know that my guests are all excellent marksmen.” His normally genial tone had turned to ice. “Harrison here is even a regular participant in the Marlborough hunt. Besides, these men didn’t arrive until Tuesday. So if you’re suggesting any of them could be part of that unfortunate incident, you’re not only unforgivably rude, but sorely mistaken.”
“Really? I’m merely advising everybody with a gun to be careful. Very careful.”
Before anyone could say a word he took Lucy’s arm and walked out of the room.
“You sure do know how to start a war, Mark Roper,” she said once they were out on the highway. Her tone sounded more amused than critical.
He could barely speak, still shaken by the slimy insinuations Braden had made. Of course they weren’t true, he kept telling himself. But the press would have a field day with that kind of salacious garbage. And he’d better improvise something to explain himself to Lucy. She was looking at him expectantly, obviously awaiting an explanation for their abrupt departure. “Sorry for losing it back there. I just wanted to shake their above-it-all, smug-assed attitudes. And that house, it stirred up a lot of memories, from when Mom and Dad were alive.”
She didn’t reply, but he could feel her studying him as he drove. His knuckles hurt, he gripped the steering wheel so hard, and his clenched teeth made his jaw ache. “So what did you learn from the boy’s club?” he asked, her silence getting to him.
“You mean besides the fact they’re sexist, racist, xenophobes?”
“That deep, are they?”
“Creeps are the same the world over – desperate to find like-minded creeps. They throw out their filth like feelers. And once Braden went off with you, they became outright talkative. I’d say that your investigation of Kelly’s murder doesn’t faze any of them. It’s amazing what men will tell a woman if she shows the least interest in their work or hobbies and comes across just the tiniest bit slutty.”
“You acted slutty?”